Four Letter Word
by vasoline
Summary: Amara's California Dreamin', and she truly believes she's found herself, and happiness. Her lifes finally adventurous and full of success, she's actually achieved, and pretending she doesn't even think of Curly. After a year of being gone, she finds herself at her old stomping grounds for most of the summer, having a little news to share with everyone. Sequel to "You Make Me Real".
1. Prologue

This will be the sequel to "You Make Me Real", which is almost over (wow). I just posted the prologue to get some feedback! (and yes I did just quote An Abundance of Katherines in this). This kinda gives stuff away I guess? But I don't care. I don't know if anyone cares but I always pictured Amara as Brigitte Bardot (that's why she's on the cover) but in Four Letter Words I kinda picture her as Brigitte Bardot meets Stevie Nicks.

**Songs included in this**:

_I Hate California_ \- Uncle Kracker

_Out in the Streets_ \- Blondie

* * *

**Four Letter Word**

_"You can love someone so much...But you can never love people as much as you can miss them." _  
_**― John Green**_

**Prologue**

* * *

_Sorry_ and _love_. Tiny words without many letters but both of them might be the hardest two words to say in the English language. Nobody every seemed to get out the words "I love you," or "I'm sorry," without a struggle. They always seem to leave your throat dry and choked up, never actually leaving the tip of your tongue. It has something to do with pride. Curly and Amara seemed to be in a cycle of not being able to utter these simple phrases: I love you and I'm sorry didn't come to them easily.

_She's lovin' California, that string bikini and the sunshine on her face..._

_...Pina Coladas on the sidewalk in L.A; ever since she went away, I hate California_

California was everything Amara wanted. Beachy waves, hot sand underneath her feet, and adventures all within a five minute drive. She was acing all her classes and her professors had high hopes for her future in journalism. There was also some blue-eyed, blond-haired arm candy by her side. Her life was exactly on track. It was a dream. But after a major milestone in her life, Amara finds herself traveling back to Tulsa, opening up a chapter in her life she thought she had closed, for _good_.

_He don't hang around with the gang no more;_  
_He don't do the wild things that he did before._

Curly's life was completely and utterly different and he absolutely loathed it. Everyone around him was beginning to settle down, except himself. His new job as a mechanic at Phillips Station didn't give him quite the thrill, either, not like the gang had anyway (though the desire for that lifestyle had left him). He's living a unfulfilling life with no strings attached to much of anything, especially his "free love" girlfriend. Curly's stuck in a nostalgic state, wishing for high school to come back or at least he was brought back to fix up his mistakes.

The Summer of '69 would be an eventful one, though, that song wouldn't hit radios until almost twenty years later – Bryan Adams was right about one thing: nothing can last forever. Amara thought she knew this, Curly thought he could prove that saying wrong.


	2. Chapter One

Chapitre nombre un. Hope you'll enjoy the sequel, I think I liked writing it more than You Make Me Real

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

_how could I ever have lost you when I loved you _

* * *

When Tim first admitted he had got his girl pregnant Curly had been pitying just the thought of that baby. But Jenny was a good mom, despite her rep. Tim obvious wasn't going to win any "Dad of the year awards" but he was doing alright. Though, the two did pass off baby duty on to one of the family a little often. Or a lot often. Right now it was Curly's turn.

It was ninty degrees and sunny this Saturday afternoon, he could be out with his buddies or pulling overtime at work. But he was stuck here, babysitting a year old infant. A year old infant that couldn't stop crying. It was safe to say he wasn't getting any nominations for uncle of the year either.

For such a cute-looking thing, babies were awful annoying. He had done everything: fed it, changed its shitty diaper, and attempted to play with it. Lydia Shepard was a pest; that was final.

Lydia crawled along the floor and her wailing hadn't stopped. Curly had tried to watch some television but that seemed impossible. He had no idea how he even got conned into agreeing to babysit today but he was regretting it. He picked up his hysterical niece and rocked her, he thought maybe he had been too rough but she was giggling now and that seemed like a good sign.

Despite himself, he smiled at Lydia. Two seconds later, she puked all over him.

"Anyone home?" Jenny called out. Curly almost prayed to God, to thank him for taking the little devil off his hands.

"Yeah, me and your little she-devil." Curly said gruffly. He had baby vomit all over his wifebeater and the smell was already getting to him.

"Curly, you're such a jerk." Jenny sighed and Curly all but threw the baby into her hands. She cradled her in her arms and then she was gone.

"Disgusting." Curly mumbled to himself. He pulled of his soiled shirt and flicked it in the wash pile. He couldn't wait until Lydia could watch herself or until he finally moved out. Whichever came first, hopefully that latter.

Angels baby had been a false alarm and Curly thanked the heavens for that. Babysitting Lydia had always beat him out. He couldn't imagine another. Ricky and her still happened to have to go through with the marriage, since Angela hadn't found out until after they said their vows that she didn't have a baby on the way. At first Angela had fought the agruement of an annulment but neither parties parents would hear anything about that. Ricky and Angel were always screaming and fighting at the start, lately they seemed to be getting along a lot better. She had been staying here a lot less and more time at the apartment they shared together. They seemed to actually take a liking to each other now, at least.

After Lydia, the Shepard Gang fell apart. Steven had a rock on Maggie's finger and got a job at the factory, Ricky was wrapped up in his marriage and Tim was attempting to be a good dad, so he stepped down from his pedestal and joined the River Kings. He said not being the leader would give him more free time. All the other boys scattered to various gangs after that.

Curly was lost at that point; everyones lives were getting on so much faster than his.

He got a job as mechanic at Phillips service station just a few months ago and he was liking it. It was a lot less unnerving than coke. It brought in a pretty penny, too. Soon, he figured, he'd be out if his mamas house with the cash he had saved up.

"Curly, ya home?" Steven barged into without even a knock. But Curly couldn't even remember a time when Steven happened _to_ knock.

"Yeah, man." Curly descended the stairs and greeted Steven.

"I thought I'd just give ya a heads up, Amara's back in town."

Curly shrugged, unbothered. "It's been a year, ain't nothin' to me no more."

Steven didn't look convinced and neither was Curly, fully. But he wasn't going to fuss about it, he might not be in a gang anymore but he didn't want to appear to be a pathetic pussy.

"Whatever you say, man. She drove back with Val Rockwell, that's why I know. Val's close to Maggie. So unfortunately, you might be seein' a lot of Amara."

Curly wasn't that bothered by Amara being back, there was a sense of naive excitement but he was seeing somebody else now.

Willow. He saw her one afternoon walking to Spencer's Special. It turned out Willow wasn't even her real name, he had assumed that anyway. Joan was her name and what she went by now. After her bad trip, she never went back to the hippie house. She still had some views he wasn't big on and sometimes her trip still got to her, but she was a nice person to have around. Willow still didn't want to settle down, even after leaving her hippie lifestyle behind; Curly was happy with that, he didn't have to get attached.

"I gotta head off to work now. Babysittin' is shit, if that thing wasn't so damn cute I'd wring it's neck."

Steven laughed, "You adore that thing, don't tryin' tell me different."

"Yeah, shut it. I'll see ya later."

Steven nodded and they both walked out the door.

"Barbeque at my place tonight, Maggie's welcomin' Val home. Bring Joan, you might be needin' her."

That was code for Amara was most definitely going to be at Maggie's tonight. He'd call Joan when he clocked into work.

Curly had never thought he was too good with cars. Cars were just a pastime for him, he liked them well enough. It seemed he was pretty good. His boss even talked up his work.

It was a dirty job, though. He was constantly covered in oil and grease and he was sure his fingertips were permanently black from now on. When he went to Maggie's he had decided he didn't even need to change, he hadn't gotten many stains on his shirt today and he had a flannel shirt he could button up over the dirty wifebeater, he was good to go.

Maggie gave him a dirty look the second he walked in the door. "You couldn't at least tried to clean yourself before walkin' into my house, Curl? You've got grease on your damn face."

Curly ran over to her and wiped his hands in her frilly apron. Maggie squealed and whacked him with her spatula. Steven walked out with a chuckle and flung his arm over Maggie.

"Don't be touchin' my girl, Shepard."

"I'm just playin'."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "Go hand out these beers."

Curly never noticed the others until then, they were all in the backyard. Joan was already here. Val was too, but he found himself staring at Amara. She looked different, but it was a good different. She looked good. Her hair was shorter in a style that reminded him of Stevie Nicks and her style wasn't so prissy; she seemed to have grown up. She had a rock on her finger.

It had a burnt orange colored gem, it was so tacky he didn't know how it wasn't the first thing his eyes caught. He wondered if whoever gave it to her knew she fucking hated orange.

"I've got drinks." Curly announced. He watched Amara's head snap up. She did not glare, she did not stick up her nose at him, she had a small smile on her face.

He handed her a beer last. "Thanks."

Even the vibe Amara brought to the room was different, she had that carefree attitude everyone from California seemed to have. She even had the tan.

"Then Val and Fred climbed on top of the Golden Gate Bridge," Amaras face was flushed from laughing to much. "They were so drunk, my sober self had to pull them down."

"I was having none of that," Val added in. "It took Amara and not to mention three others to get _me_ off that bridge."

It seemed that Amara and Val had in fact had go on those trips they had fantasized about on grad day. It was funny how things worked out.

"California seems wonderful." Joan said from behind him. She could see in her eyes that she was envious of the two. Joan told him constantly how much she wanted to see the ocean. She hadn't before.

"So, Amara. I think it's time that we talk about what everyone else has been dyin' to ask." Steven eyed Curly as he talked. "Who gave ya that shiny little ring?"

Curly had wanted to know, he wasn't going to deny that. But he hadn't been dying to know; mild curiosity.

"His names Will, he's studying for an English major like me. He's from Los Angeles. Not much to say."

"Does he surf?"

Sometimes Steven could be an idiot.

"Yes, actually."

English major, California native, that surfs. Curly could just picture him now- he had sand blond hair, ocean blue eyes and a tan. He also talked like a real douchebag; he would be all into that philosophical bullshit.

"Does he listen to the Beach Boys too much?"

Maggie hit Stevens chest but Curly was grinning.

He saw Amara's lips twitch. "Yes, Steven, he does. Not a little too much, I mean if I hear Surfin' USA at all this trip to Oklahoma I will tear all my hair out."

The topics changed quickly. The Beach Boys led to talking about Led Zeppelin's new single and going down to the lake and just a bunch of random crap that didn't really matter. It felt like high school.

As the sun set, Joan wanted to go home. She didn't like being out in the darkness anymore; Curly assumed that was just a side effect from her nasty trip.

"I'll see ya'll later. Think it's time we took off."

"Take off? It's only ten and you're heading home?" The way Amara said that made him want to stay. But Joan was tugging on his sleeve and he knew when he turned around her eyes would be watery. Nights when the trip got to her she was a mess. He wasn't sure how he handled it.

"I gotta bring Joan home."

He dropped Joan off and walked her to the door but she was kissing him like she wanted him to come inside. She lived with her brother and that had always caused him to never make it past the doorstep too often.

"Nobodies home." Joan said as if she could read his mind.

He began fumbling for the doorknob and Joan's touching never eased up. He wondered if she had just faked being upset to get him home. Most nights he wouldn't have a care in the world- he was getting laid by a beautiful woman. Tonight, he wanted to be at Stevens.

He wanted to hear about California and talk about music and stupid shit they all did. Lately all people cared about was themselves and their job and stuff Curly wasn't familiar with. In the past three months he wasn't sure he had a single conversation with Maggie and Steven other than what their wedding was going to look like. Curly couldn't relate to that stuff and couldn't even bring himself to care about what color fucking petunias would look best.

But Joan's hands started slipping dangerously low and he realized he never got this _every_ day either. Stevens was soon forgotten.


	3. Chapter Two

Ummm sorry this is never updated.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

_you're friction_

* * *

Her familiar blue wallpaper, that was almost completley covered in pin-ups looked so immature to her now. She wondered if this is how Henry felt every time he came home. She pulled the Bob Dylan one off the wall, it had been right next to Sophia Loren at one point but that had been pulled off the wall long ago. She would be taking Dylan to California with her.

The house smelt like pancakes. That was an odd smell, even if she had never left. Neither of her parents were huge on cooking.

"Bless her heart," Helena Robinson said, staring out the window.

There was a petite redhead pushing along a baby carriage. It didn't seem out of the ordinary for Amara, but the way her Ma had said it was like she pitied the poor girl.

"That's Tim Shepards kid, y'know. He went and knocked that poor little girl up."

Tim having and kid was news to her, nobody had mentioned it and as much as she disliked Tim, it took two to make a baby.

"He good with it?"

Her mother nodded, that surprised her too. "As good as a hood can be."

Shepards and babies made Amara think of Angela, after picking at the food her mother prepard she headed off to find Angel. She wondered how she was doing- after a shotgun wedding and a baby coming along. Angela Shepard was the toughest girl Amara knew, but Amara couldn't help herself but worry about her. In a house of two boys and a lost mother, she didn't have much to depend on.

The red row house was too familiar, she thought maybe that would have worn off after a year but she still recognized every bit of it, it was exactly the same.

Mary opened the door, her expression unimpressed. She glowered down at Amara, arms crossed. Amara smiled.

"Curlys finally over you- if you think you're just gonna come knock on my door and-"

Amara stopped her. "I'm here to see Angela."

A part of her wanted to see Curly, but not to continue on like old times. But the 'he's over you' part of his mothers speech rubbed Amara the wrong way. A part of her hoped selfishly he was still pining over her, since he had ruined the relationship and she could show him just how happy she could be without him. The mature part of her was glad they had both moved on from their toxic teenage relationship.

Amara caught a blurry glimpse of curly brunette hair and leather. Curly was home.

"Angela lives in an apartment with her husband, I'll give you the address." Mary Shepard told her the address very rushed. Amara knew why, she didn't want Curly to see her.

He had seen her, though and he smiled as he walked over to the two of them.

"Amara, I'm flattered but it's been a year."

Amara rolled her eyes and Mary shot him a look.

"She came for Angela, get back inside."

"Angela?" His brow raised. "I'm headin' over there now to see Ricky, if you want a ride?"

She shook her head. Half because she didn't want one and half because his mother was giving her a fierce glare.

"I'm good, I drove here myself."

"Then we'll take your car." He grinned and stalked off to Amara's car. It highly needed a paint job, but she knew better than to be embarrassed about that stuff around Curly.

She gave his mother an apologetic look and followed after him. She thought she heard _Lord have mercy_ muttered breathily as she left the steps.

He was in the drivers seat of her car and it felt just like old times.

"Did you really need to go see Ricky?" She asked as he pulled out of the driveway. He laughed in disbelief.

"Come back from California with a ring on your finger and now you're cocky, huh?"

Her cheeks flushed. "That's not what I meant - I thought maybe you were trying to piss your mother off."

He ignored that and kept his eyes on the road.

"It's odd seein' everyone just pairin' off," she could feel his eyes on her ring. "It happened so fast."

"You got yourself a girl, Steven says she's been around for awhile."

Curly nodded. "But it ain't serious. She wouldn't like if I popped the question. She don't believe in that stuff."

"Are you dating a hippie?" She joked and Curly visibly stiffened.

"Willow- I mean, Joan's a former hippie. She's still a bit... different. But she don't believe in that whole lifestyle anymore."

Amara nodded like she understood, but she didn't. Hippies were something Curly never understood at one point either - now he was dating one. Amara was now dating a man like she had always dreamed about - blonde, creative and lots of ambition. But Amara had stepped completely outside of that box when she fell for Curly, she never understood gangs or violence but she had loved him anyway. Maybe Joan was Amara's Curly, in a way.

Angela's apartment building was small and dingy. She hadn't expected more from two seventeen year olds.

"Curl, you here to see Ricky? 'Cause he just left, went to go pick up some beer."

It was only just past noon, Amara had never drank a beer this early. But she wasn't a big drinker.

Angela's eyes flickered behind Curly. Amara had been tucked behind him while he had knocked. She smirked.

"You two? Y'all back together or what?"

Amara was about to tell Angel no, but Curly raised her left hand up into Angela's view, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Popped the question last night."

Angela looked from Amara to Curly, then back again.

"Shit, Curly, don't lie to me. Is he lyin'?"

"He's lying." Amara said giving in to Angela.

Angela chuckled. "I knew it, that's one fancy ring. You can't get that fixin' cars for a couple months."

Amara was confused. "Fixing cars?"

Curly appeared sheepish. "Yeah, didn't ya hear? The Shepard Gang is no more. He works at Phillips service station now."

Amara felt she was the last to know anything around here since she got back, it was the same but different. She wasn't the same either. But Curly had gone on the straight path and Tim had a kid and everyone was getting hitched - including her.

Angela's apartment was nice. It was small but it was surprisingly clean. Vaguely, Amara remembered being in Angela's room to drop off that note. Her room had been cleaner than the rest of the house. There wasn't a single baby toy around the house, or anything kid related. She wanted to ask, but she didn't. She had come over to see how Angel had been holding up, but something told her not to bring up the baby on her own.

"Why're you two here anyway? And together?"

Curly shrugged, he was rummaging through Angel's fridge now. He had grabbed two Cokes, then handed one to Amara.

"She came to the house," Curly said in between sips. "Said she wanted to see you, I was goin' to see Ricky so I hitched a ride."

Ricky came back not even ten minutes later, four cases of beer in his arms. After putting them away, Curly and him went outside. There was something wrong with his car and Curly had offered to fix it up, for a six pack. Angela had rolled her eyes at that.

"Why'd ya wanna see me?" Angela asked her once the door had slammed shut on the boys. "Or was that just an excuse, I won't be hurt."

Amara laughed. "No, I actually wanted to see you."

"After you left, he got with Nancy." Angela told her and Amara had no idea why. She didn't want to know that - a hook-up was easily looked past, but she didn't want to known he had feelings for the girl he had fooled around on her with, Amara wanted to believe he had actually liked her.

"I don't know why he'd do it, she always ruins him. She overdosed, though. A cocktail of too much booze and heroin. He had cried so much that night and I've only see Curly cry one other time- when our dad passed. But he wasn't crying for her, not really. He was asking for you. He even said he was going to California."

Amara's stomach hurt. She pictured vividly Curly sitting in a hospital chair, tears pouring down his face, nonsensical words uttering from his lips.

"Why are you telling me this?" Her voice was just above a whisper. She had hated Nancy, but not enough to not be thrown by this.

"Thought it'd be somethin' worth hearin'." Her gaze firmly planted on Amara's left hand.

Amara cleared her throat and put a smile on her face. "What about you? You doin' okay?"

Angel nodded. She didn't seem to be too into the conversation anymore. "Me and Ricky are good, the baby was a false alarm."

That explained the lack of baby items and smell of infant puke. Amara's mind had went directly to the thoughts of a miscarriage or abortion, the baby not being real was less devastating.

"You and Ricky never...?"

"Got an annulment? No our parents wouldn't let us."

Angel overall seemed like things were going well for her. So did Curly -fixing cars. It was such a mundane, blue collar job, she thought he would be in that gang forever. But it made since, yesterday she had seen Curly at Stevens and he had been _covered_ in grease; his hair, pants, and shirt were black with it, he even had some smudged across his face. She hadn't read too much into it, Amara was aware Curly could fix up a car as good as anyone; she had just assumed something had went wrong with his beat up pick-up. It wouldn't be shocking, that thing was in it's last life.

Curly and Ricky returned, Curly splattered with new stains of black.

"Doll, you wanna bring me home? I gotta get my truck and head off to work."

_Doll_, no one had called her that since she left. It was only a genric term of endearment, used by lots of people, but Curly had been the only one she had come across to call her that. Babe, sweetheart, she had even got peach a couple times, doll was reserved for him. Will called her sugar and she never thought it quite fit.

"Sure," she snapped out of her thoughts. "Come on."

Angela was smirking at her, Angel's smirks were scary because she thinking of something or coming up with something and you never really wanted to know what it was.

Curly was grinning at her like he had nothing else better in the world to being doing, and he was talking to her about how she should have been there when the two new Beatles albums had come out, since there's no one else who would even think of listening to them with him. She wondered _why_ he was saying this because he had cheated on her, if she had still lived here they probably wouldn't be talking at this point. California, being far away from him, had given her the strength to forgive him. Amara liked hearing it, despite herself. At least he had missed her for something, like she so selfishly wanted.

A rusty, yellow T-bird in his driveway. There was a Grateful Dead bumper sticker follow by another bumper sticker that read PEACE in abstract letters. She assumed it must have been Joan's. She had remembered who Joan was now, briefly. Willow, or Joan now, was the girl that Curly had encountered on a bad trip, she had been one of his buyers. He had been so upset that night.

She stepped out of her car the same time Amara pulled into the driveway.

Joan had light, brunette hair. It fell the whole ways down her back and was partened in the middle. She was short, very pale and had bright blue eyes, Amara saw once she started walking closer. Nothing about her reminded Amara of herself, there was no resemblance. But in all the girlfriends Amara was aware of, including herself, they had one thing in common. Each of them was a "fixer-uper".

Amara rolled down her window without thinking as Joan neared the drivers side.

"Hello." Her voice was soft, drawn out; as if she was stuck in a daze. "Amara, right?"

Usually when the girlfriend officially met the ex they would feel threatened, especially when she was the one driving him home. Joan didn't seem threatened and Amara didn't feel any real jealously towards Joan. It was calm.

"I was just dropping Curly home. We were at Angel's." Amara felt the need to confirm that nothing had happened. Joan didn't seem to have a single a worry either way.

"Curly and mines relationship is very... flexible. It's no mind to me."

By flexible, Amara knew she meant they were in an open relationship. She'd never got those but maybe that was because she was needy and insecure. She wanted things closed and labelled.

Adruptly, Curly hopped out of the car and was waving her off.

"I gotta head of to work," was his excuse but he seemed off. She ignored it.

Amara pulled out of his driveway. In her mirror she saw Curly and Joan wrapped in an embrace. She didn't look in that mirror again until she was off his road.


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

_lost your balance on a tightrope;_  
_lost your mind tryin' to get it back_

* * *

Oklahoma heat was fucking blistering. He liked what he did, but when it was this hot he would rather being anymore other than the humid garage that lacked air conditioning or even a damn fan.

"Is my car ready yet?" Curly was working on a pretty red Sting Ray. In fact, he had just finished it. He had to just lower back to the ground. He should have known a car like this belonged to a girl like that. Cherry Valance stood over him, her hair a flaming red to match her car. He hadn't seen her since she stopped hanging around Amara.

"Curly Shepard?" She was instantly more resigned. "Since when do you folk do anything legal."

Curly's eyes narrowed at her. "I ain't gonna be in some street gang forever. I ain't stupid."

Curly hadn't thought about what he was going to do after the gang before the gang split. He was oblivious to the fact that he couldn't be in a lame street gang forever until the situation was thrown at him. Cherry didn't need to know that.

"I wasn't trying to say you were stupid, I don't think you are." She sounded sincere enough. He started to lower her car.

"You go pay, I'll bring her out front for you."

Cherry stepped out of sight, into the store. Curly put her car in ground level and drove it out into the lot. It rode so smooth compared to his truck, he was envious of it.

Cherry got into her car but before driving off, she looked up at him. She almost seemed sad. "How's Amara?"

Curly's face scrunched up. He wondered how confused he looked to her. "She's good?"

"You don't know?" Cherry said, equally lost.

"I saw her the other day- but you know me and her- we're over. She's been in California the past year."

Cherry was deeply blushing. "Oh, I would have never thought... Good for her, though."

"Yeah," Curly muttered as Cherry's bright red 'vette zoomed off. "Good for her."

He cruised around for what seemed to be hours before stopping at Joan's. Her brother was out of town in Oklahoma City.

It was cool inside her place, he could hear the hum of all the fans she had on. He appreciated getting out of the heat.

"Joan, you home?"

He heard her answer from down the hall, he went and got a cold beer from her fridge. Before sipping it, he held the frosty glass bottle up to his forehead. The cold made him flinch because of the contrast, but it felt nice.

Joan came into the kitchen. There was a raggedy man behind her, one of those types that looked like they didn't shower in a couple days. He probably hadn't either. Joan was only in a tank top and her panties and the man was only in some ugly blue tie-dye type shorts. He was exactly Joan's usual type. He had just interrupted one of Joan's hook-ups- the perks of having an open relationship.

Curly took a deep swig of his beer.

"I wasn't expecting you," Joan smiled. She wasn't saying it like 'you should have called first' she genuinely didn't mind he had come, and she genuinely didn't find anything awkward about the situation they were in right now. Curly played it off as if he didn't either.

The guy left, Carl or something, Curly didn't really give a shit what his name was.

"You think maybe we can just have a real relationship?" Curly murmured against Joan's lips, mid-making out. It was a bad time, but he couldn't get it off his mind. He hadn't wanted anything serious before but now this whole open thing wasn't agreeing with him anymore. He liked Joan enough to make it private, he was sure of it.

Her eyes were wide, like this shocked her. She was already pulled away from him now, inching off his lap.

"Curly..." She said hesitantly. "You know I don't believe in that stuff."

Joan said the exact thing he thought she would. He had hoped she could have had changed her mind. They had this open thing for four months, which was a long time to stick around.

"It's alright, just a suggestion." He shrugged coolly.

He didn't stay long after that. He got up and stared driving again. First, he ended up at Stevens. Amara's green Cornet had been there. She wasn't exactly what he wanted to deal with right now, so he drove around the block a couple more times then drove back to Stevens. Her car was still there- but this time he sucked it up. He got out of the car, not mature enough not to huff and barged into Stevens.

It was quiet in there, expect for laughter and the clink of glasses.

The girls sat at the dining table, sipping on wine. Steven, Ricky sat around their woman, drinking beers. Some guy Curly had never seen before had his arm around Val. It all looked too old for him, for some reason. Out of place.

Amara's purse lay on the table next to an empty chair and a half drank glass of wine. It wasn't until he walked in further he noticed her on the phone, deeper in the kitchen. She grinned at him, he took her seat.

She talked on the phone only five minutes or less and sauntered back over to the table and handed Steve a handful of change.

"That should do it, I think. It's awful expensive to call California, my god. Will doesn't seem to realize that though. Just keeps talking about what flowers and what kind of cake," She rolled her eyes. A habit that had always irked him but he had always liked. "But I guess the wedding _is_ in August."

The guy that was here with Val laughed. Later he found out he was the Fred from their earlier story. "Amara, you know how crazy Will can be."

Curly didn't find any of this funny. August was only two months away- Amara would be Mrs. Will of California by the end of the summer. It had never sunk in to him before but now it was hitting him.

"Aren't you supposed to be doin' the flowers and shit?" Curly said gruffly. Angel smirked at him like she knew how he felt and was finding humor in it.

"I guess, but weddings have never interested me much and it's important to Will. I let him do it."

"He sounds like a douchebag."

Steven chuckled lowly, shaking his head.

"What kind of cake did he decide on?" Val piped in to divert the attention.

"Just chocolate, with typical white icing. He's getting orange flower decals put around it. They'll match our actual flowers."

Orange. Just like her ring. She hated orange and she hated chocolate cake.

Once she had said something pleasant about orange, that it had looked good on _him_. But she had also stated how tacky and too bright it happened to be.

"You hate orange and you hate chocolate cake even more." Curly blurted out. Amara's cheeks went red.

"I- I don't _hate_ it and they're his favorite things so it's only fair-"

"Just admit it."

"Enough." Steven looked at Curly warningly. "Curly, just drop it."

He wanted to keep going, ask her what of _her_ favorite things made it into the wedding but Stevens tone had been final.

Maggie had switched the topic to her and Stevens own wedding plans. Theirs was only in one more week. It was less nauseating to hear about their plans but he had hoped the wedding stuff could be dropped all together. He was fucking sick of hearing about cakes and flowers and accent colors or who's invited, who's not. He couldn't even get his girl to have a real relationship.

Curly went and sat down on the porch, plenty of cigarettes to calm him down.

Amara didn't want him, which was his own doing. Joan didn't want to be serious and he had agreed to that. He had nothing to be upset about.

"You're right, I do hate orange and chocolate cake is the worst. Got one of those to share?"

He'd never known Amara to smoke, he tried to recall a point where he had seen her take a puff of a cigarette and thoughts came up blank. He didn't make any move to hand it to her.

"C'mon, I get stressed too."

He reached into his pocket for the pack and lit on for her. She inhaled it without a single cough. She must have done it before.

"If you hate it, then why?" He still hadn't looked at her. He just stared off at the sunset.

"He likes it, I don't care _all_ too much as long as I end up with his last name."

"You're not very hard to please," Curly said with a chuckle and another draw. "What's his last name anyway?"

"Tate."

Amara Tate, he had to admit it rung nicely together. That didn't make him hate it any less, it probably made him hate it more.

"Are you alright, Curly?" She asked in a very serious tone. He didn't exactly understand how she could bring herself to be so nice to him, he had cheated on her no matter how much he tried to forget it. But here she was acting genuinely concerned for him as he watched the sunset.

"Things have been hard." He opened up a little. "I think I'm handling it."

"I heard about Nancy." She said softly.

He hadn't been there when Nancy overdosed but he had found her, passed out on her bedroom floor. Her dad hadn't even noticed. He remembered being in the hospital, crying outside in the waiting room. He didn't even know why he was crying, he had expected this to happen- Nancy was too far gone and even with his attempts at helping her he couldn't get her off drugs. She wasn't even real to him at that point, he wasn't attached. But he had cried, almost as much as he had cried when he found out his dad was dead. He couldn't find a logical reason to why, he was just overwhelmed with everything at that point. It had been a low spot for him and embarrassing.

"I'm over that." He said but he wasn't sure, he always took death hard.

"It's okay not to be tough. I'm sure as hell not tough, so you don't gotta put up walls around me."

When he had first met Amara, he would agree with her. That girl had been anything but tough. Now, he thought a bit differently. She could be brave and quite tough at times. She had to he tough, even to just sit here and console him about an ex that wasn't her, one he had two-timed her with.

"It was scary, I thought she was dead when I touched her. She wasn't, though. She died in her hospital bed."

Amara's was unusually long. "That's horrible," she replied. "I know how much she meant to you."

Nancy hadn't meant half as much as Amara had to him, but he could see where Amara could go wrong. He didn't correct her.

He took a long look at her, trying to fit in back in her old box- the Amara he knew a year ago. It wasn't too hard, she really hadn't changed much, she just seemed to have grown into herself if that made any sense at all.

He liked the way she did herself up now. She had on tall black boots and a black miniskirt, a lace blouse on top. She seemed to be accepting of who she was now and he was glad to see the fancy dresses gone. He dad told him once "people go to California to find themselves, I already know who I am," that had been when he was nine and had asked to go to the beaches there. He had slapped some sunscreen on him and took him to the lake. Curly had found the whole thing stupid.

He pictured Amara in his room, the letter from Nancy in her hand. Her eyes were watery and red but she was trying her damn best to hide it from him. She was dressed as a Soc but she was latched on to him. Amara hadn't found herself then, he realized. She was lost. He figured that had been the exact moment she had come to that realization too.

"I'm not good at apologies," Curlys voice was rough, uncomfortable. "So take this as one. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She nodded, he saw it out of the corner of his eye.

"You might not understand, but thinking back, I think that was just the thing I needed."

He understood.


End file.
